chro·nol·o·gy
noun \-jē\
plural chro·nol·o·gies
Definition of CHRONOLOGY
1
: the science that deals with measuring time by regular divisions and that assigns to events their proper dates
2
: a chronological table, list, or account
3
: an arrangement (as of events) in order of occurrence<reconstruct the chronology of the trip>
----http://www.merriam-webster.com/
So you may be wondering why I posted the definition of chronology? Well, let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we.....Where CHRONOLOGY meets CROHN-OLOGY. The most memorable moments in my Crohn's rich life.
(TMI ALERT---IF YOU Don't want to know these dirty details about me, I don't suggest reading this post)
1988: Age 9 on Spring vacation on Florida (fond memories) and I scream bloody murder at the sight of the bright red blood filling the toilet. I'm in immense pain in the butt (and an immense pain in the butt) for the entire rest of the trip. I remember listening to my Dirty Dancing cassette tape to help calm me down. After a number of doctor's visits I am finally referred to Dr. Kirschner at University of Chicago Pediatric Gastroenterolgy. My first colonoscopy was on picture day and my class waited until the very end of the day, just in case I was able to make it for the class photo. I can even remember what I was wearing- a blue and green checked skort with a baby blue t-shirt and Tretorn tennis shoes. I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease. The one thing I took away from that meeting? People with Crohn's can have curved toenails. I happen to be one of them.
Medications: Azulfadine, Prednisone, Iron, Folic acid
1995: As a junior in high school, the last thing on my mind was having an illness. I was 16, dating, going out on weekends and enjoying my free time. Did I want to think about the illness that would one day turn against me? Not in the least. When my mom and I went for my annual gastro appointment that Spring, I was advised that I would NEVER have issues with Crohn's disease if I haven't at this point in my life. I wish I could SHAKE the doctor that told me that. Boy was he wrong.
Medications: Pentasa
1997: As a freshman at Western Michigan University, on my own for the first time, living in the dorms, stressed out by school, roommates, making healthy food choices and getting enough exercise, my health began to deteriorate. I threw myself into working out and eating very little. My favorites: grapefruit and Papa John's plain bread sticks (they delivered them to my dorm). I would walk from the Valley all the way to the student rec center, clear across campus. Then I'd partake in a step aerobics class and water aerobics. Academics? I switched my major 3 times that year.
Medications: Pentasa, Levsin
1998: I grow increasingly ill and have little energy. For the second time in my life I'm having a major Crohn's flare up (first being when I was diagnosed). I am referred to an amazing doctor, Karen Sable, MD. She refers me to a colo-rectal surgeon who determines that I have a bunk sphincter. Seriously? I'm 19 and see a colo-rectal surgeon. I'm about 60 years too young to be in this situation. My amazing Surgeon Dr. Theodore Sacclarides of Rush Presbyterian Chicago, prescribes nitroglycerin. No, I'm not a heart patient, this was prescribed to try and contract my non working sphincter.
Medications: Prednisone, Pentasa, 6MP, Nitro
2001: It's late Spring, 2001. I am newly married, but sick as HELL. I am begging for an ostomy at this point. I'm a full time student and have a full time job at a psychiatric hospital. I feel terrible. My spare time is spent on the couch laying on the heating pad. Had I discovered pain management at this point, I would be stoned on pain meds all the time. I can't sit, lay down or stand without an immense amount of pain. Finally, when I'm sick enough to be admitted to the hospital, I have my colon, rectum and part of my small intestine removed. The med students described my colon like a giant rubber band mass. It was extremely diseased. I am a new version of myself and loving the feeling of health.
2004: Oh brother, here we go again. I'm on vacation and discover that my stoma has a fistula. I know this can't be good. As soon as I get back from a weekend away, I see my surgeon. I don't remember much (must have blocked it out) but had a bowel resection and had more small intestine removed. Good to go... or not. After being released I am rushed back to the hospital only to discover a pocket of fluid around my pancreas. One more week in the slammer.
2008: AKA the worst health year thus far. February brings loss of energy and fevers. April, the weekend of Brad's birthday, I'm hospitalized with a baseball sized mass of fluid. It's drained, and so am I. I'm left with a drain bag hanging from my abdomen and sent on my merry way. In extreme pain, I cannot work. I can't go out into the world either. It's mortifying to have an IV-like bag hanging from my stomach. After getting the "all clear" on my 29th birthday, I am allowed to go back to work, only to be admitted to the hospital on July 4th. My abscess is back. After several hospitalizations later, it's time to schedule yet another surgery. My incredible surgeon, Dr. Rebecca Hoedema, decides to move my stoma and remove another foot of intestines, on September 11th. The recovery was a bumpy road. I developed bronchitis in the hospital and my staples opened up. After a day at home, my closed wound begins to pop open. Terrified as a mother effer Brad rushes me to the ER. There is NOTHING they can do. It's not good to close an open wound. I am horrified, scared, upset, sad. It felt like a tragedy. Almost 6 months later, my scar closes.
Medications: 6MP, Flagyl, Hydrocodone, Cipro
2012: January- 2 trips to the ER = a few days in the hospital. I have a narrowing in my intestines, yet again. My diet needs to change, STAT. No more salad, fruits, veggies, fiber.
Medications; Prednisone, Flagyl, Humira
2013: There are days when I feel like my world is going to come crashing down. I know things aren't wonderful with my health now, but I'm treating my body better than I ever have. I'm not eating roughage, I am exercising, getting extra sleep and trying not to let the little things get to me. I have to tell myself that there could be another day when I will feel sick. It WILL happen. And it will be okay. There are worse things. I'm one strong, stoic, brave, gutsy girl.
Medications: Humira, Imuran, Prozac (hopefully this will help curb any anxiety that leads to stress inducing flare ups)
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